On the Eve of Battle
by WhiteMacabre001
Summary: the reader and Yomi share on night before the Makai Tournament begins. I don't own or profit from this story. Nor do I own the yyh universe or characters.


The sounds of the rain gently patting on the window comforted you as you were in the darkness, but the loud thoughts racing through your mind would not settle. You tried everything you could think of: teas, soothing meditations, mantras, incense, relaxation music. Nothing worked. Not even the tender feeling of his warm hands on your back. His soft hair between your fingers as you cupped his head, his long black tresses spilling over the lush array of pillows. You straddled him on the bed, your legs folded under and brushing his naked hips.

The crisp sheets shifted when he moved his long legs under you, bringing you up and down in a subtle wave of motion. Still your mind wandered and you continuously fussed about your being there; again. A sudden set of lips found themselves on your neck, spreading kisses laden with desire and yearning. His smooth forehead nudged your chin upwards, giving him access to the sensitive skin beneath your jaw. You let a low gasp escape despite yourself, which you knew did not go unnoticed by your admirer. Nothing evaded his acute hearing; he was able to hear private conversations from the deepest recesses of his kingdom. In the dim light from the sodden window, you saw his three long ears twitch and you knew he had detected your approval of his ministrations.

One large hand moved from between your shoulder blades and slid up to slip deftly under your nightshirt. His calloused fingers traced your collar bone, lightly so as to make the flesh quicken. Using the back of his hand, he pushed the loose fabric away, revealing your perfect shoulder. The sound of the silky material pooling around your elbow made your heart accelerate. The night air was cool as it hit your goose-pimpled flesh, your left side exposed. Your lips met something hard and cold as he angled his head to kiss your chin. You smiled against the horn and tucked below to capture his mouth with yours. Picking you up gently, he switched positions, pinning you under him. Wrapping arms around his neck, you pulled him closer, wanting to be nearer to him. Bracing himself with his arm, the muscles flexing under the strain, he ghosted his free hand over your shoulder, your breast, your side. Finding the lace underwear snuggly on your hip, he carefully took the waistband and pulled down. You arched into his chest as his warm palm went over the swell of your hip and down to your upper thigh.

As he readied himself to take you, the thoughts raced back; the tournament was tomorrow and you were absent from your training. The others, especially Yusuke would demand to know where you had been on the eve of such an important day. What would you say? How could you keep to yourself a secret such as this? You were a human surrounded by demons capable of seeing your inner most thoughts, what measures would you have to take for them to remain oblivious?

The slow seductiveness as he entered you broke your chain of thoughts, leaving you inhaling sharply and longingly beneath him. You gripped his shoulders, his sides, marveling at the chorded muscle. The two of you soon moved together in even thrusts until he found the trigger to your bright sparkling visionaries. His hands and lips stroked your face, cheeks, and eyes; creating a mental image to enlighten his sightless void.

The emotions in your gut were stinging, burning, fueled by his powerful dominance. You never felt so wanting, so irrevocably connected to anyone before. The way this mighty demon king possessed you left you tingling with electricity. In the stands he watched you; in the city he followed you. When you sat next to Yusuke during political meetings, this demon encompassed you; owned you. Many women lusted after the blind king of that you were sure. Yet for reasons obscure to you, the black haired king chose to fixate on you.

You shivered as he panted against your neck, his warm breath dampening your skin. His hips moved with tension, for he bridled his demonic speed and stamina so as not to hurt you. But you could sense from the contraction of his thighs that he wanted nothing more than to claim you with a supremacy that only a demon of his caliber and standing could muster. You wrapped your legs firmly about his back, resting just above his sculpted buttocks; a sign in which he understood as permission to conquer. So, arching his back the demon king proceeded to ravish you deliciously and barbarically. Tears spilled from your eyes though not from sadness―they flowed from the overwhelming passion you felt for this man. He kissed you, weaving his tongue stealthy over yours. He kissed you with such feeling and homage that you might have sworn he loved you.

When it came time to quicken his pace, you whimpered into his mouth, for the fierceness with which he triumphed you nearly broke you. He held you as he sped, encircling you in a wall of muscled flesh. You moaned into his ears, gasping and writhing languidly. All too soon, his hips stopped, braced tightly against yours. His face, beautiful and ageless, contorted with ecstasy. He laid upon you for some time, listening to your heart beat, his long fingers tracing patterns along your arm and chest. Staring at the ornate cathedral ceiling, with its high vaults and cherry-wood buttresses, a great emptiness filled your heart. The beautiful palace, bright city lights, fine cuisine and soft bed would all be forsaken tomorrow for the purpose of every demon battling as themselves. All titles, rankings, anything of stature and meaning would be cast away like trash, all for a chance to test one's fighting skill. This night not only represented a passionate, carnal joining of the flesh, but the last semblance of competent governmental structure. You laced your fingers with his and kissed his hand; but the biggest fear eating at your bones was the possibility of never seeing him again. A thought that terrified you beyond reckoning.

The demon king looked at you, his sweat soaked tresses like black rivers along his neck and back. You memorized his face: the square jaw, the high cheeks, his eyes lidded behind curtains of creamy flesh. You counted the horns he bore and amounted to seven in total, a true sign of power by demonic quota. The two of you made love throughout the remainder of the night, each time escalating to more profound heights of feeling. As the dreaded dawn drew closer you stared as his broad back disappeared beneath robes of light purple and red, his long legs slipped into trousers of a similar shade of periwinkle. Barefoot, the demon king strode over to you still under the coverlet and bent to cup your cheek lovingly. Silky onyx hair fell onto your neck traveling to your waist. Saddened that he was leaving, you took his wrist and gave a slight tug. With a smile, the blind king sat next to you and brought you to his chest in a reassuring embrace.

You held onto him for fear of him never returning and you buried yourself into his neck and shoulder. The strong demon lifted you to his lap to tighten his grasp on you. Words were spoken between you, words of promises and comfort. In a fit of anguish, you took his face and kissed him. The horned king eagerly returned the gesture, settling into the curvatures of your mouth, and held you so tightly to his chest you thought you would suffocate. You whispered affections to him, devotions to him. He nuzzled your nose and jaw, reiterating the same terms into your ear. You refused to let him leave, knowing he would be late for the registration period; yet you cared not and so began to kiss his mouth, ears, and neck. You pulled the expensive fabrics away from the pale skin and attacked all that was bared. Once more, that was all you wanted. Once more to feel him around you; within you. You pushed him back onto the bed, crawled over him, and opened his robes. His strong hands came up your arms, raising them above you. Your eyes closed in burning pleasure while he stroked your body; his fingers left searing trails down your chest and exposed breasts, down to your stomach and over your sides. He sensed the desire you had and wished to fulfill it. For he also knew he might never be with you again, and the prospect struck a panic in him he had not felt since his sight was taken. Undoing his trousers, he guided you to have you mount him.

You rocked with each other, savoring this last bit of intimacy. He was gentle, not holding back but truly gentle. He wanted this to last for as long as it could. After long wonderful moments of heartfelt love making, you cried his name as his warmth invaded you. By now, the sun had risen and he needed to resume his daily duties. It was the day of the Makai Tournament; a day in which the fates and lives of all who lived in this world would be decided and who would be chosen to become king of them all. The blind king rose and re-adorned his robes, securing them with a green sash. You wept on the bed, the sheets wrapped around your legs. You begged him not to go, not to enter. He refused, mentioning the fact that you would be entering the competition as well. You heatedly told him you would gladly decline if only he do the same. You told him how unbearable his death would be to you and that you could not stand the idea of him not being with you.

The blind king wiped your tears away, licking the watery drops from his thumb. It was then that he made a promise to you, a promise were if he were to live and win the tournament, that he should make you his wife. You told him that you should marry him no matter if he won or lost. It did not matter, you simply wanted him back alive. Bending he took your face into his large palms and kissed you softly. Your tears slid between your lips as you reluctantly pulled back. The demon king gave you a lordly bow and left, leaving you there alone to face your own inner demons and the challenge of winning the demon crown for yourself.


End file.
